


Chaos Count

by buriedbybooks



Series: Leverage-Warehouse 13 Crossovers [5]
Category: Leverage, Warehouse 13
Genre: (obnoxious and otherwise), Crack, Flirting, Fluff, Multi, not sure how to tag the chemistry between Myka and H.G., not-quite-a-case fic, the Count of Saint Germain lacks any common sense, they just flirt a lot, thieves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28023084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buriedbybooks/pseuds/buriedbybooks
Summary: Bennett Sutton, the Count of Saint Germain, has gotten himself into trouble again and calls people he knows can help.  What no one expected was that help would bring up so many past exploits.
Relationships: Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer
Series: Leverage-Warehouse 13 Crossovers [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2034829
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	1. A Count, A Secret Service Agent and A Time-Traveler Walk Into a Bar…

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of those pieces (not sure I can actually call it a story as it lacks most of the elements of a storyline) that I wrote because I couldn’t get a very small scene out of my head: the possibility that Eliot would run into Bennett Sutton again (see  
> [Living Well](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24280117) for their first encounter). And then H.G. decided to pitch in… and this is what resulted

Myka sat and stared at the text message on her phone. The words hadn’t changed in order since she first received the text half an hour ago, but she still wasn’t sure what to make of them.

Helena came in, notebook in hand and pen behind one ear. Seeing Myka on the couch, she perched on the arm next to her and peered at the phone. “What has you so perplexed, darling? Pete trying to text using only those cartoon faces again?”

Myka chuckled, as she was sure Helena intended. “No, thank goodness. A full mouth is one thing, emojis are something else entirely. No, this is a text message from… well, actually, want to come with me on this one? Easier to show than explain.”

“Curiosity?” Helena asked.

“Maybe. Definitely going to need a sit down face to face to figure it out,” Myka decided, texting back a place and time. “We can be there by dinner if we leave now.”

“Righty ho, then; I’ll just go get my jacket. Shall I tell Pete?”

That was actually a good question, Myka thought. “Let’s call this reconnaissance and wait until we know more to tell the others.”

“You know how I feel about vague statements.”

Myka chuckled, “I know, you want to be the only one making them. I’ll meet you at the car.”

****

***

Myka scanned the bar, looking for a familiar face. Possibly with terrible fake facial hair. She still hadn’t explained to Helena who exactly it was they were meeting in this dive in Rapid City. There really were no words. And Myka would admit, if only to herself, she was a bit curious as to how they would react to each other...

“Well, hello. The Warehouse only hiring hot women these days? What happened to the forehead? You his replacement, come to interrogate me? I do hope you brought rope.”

The pompous drawl caused Helena to spin around and glare down her nose at the man who had come up behind them.

Myka just smirked, “You don’t want to know what she can do with rope. There a reason you wanted to meet, _Ned_?”

The man in front of her winced. He really hadn’t changed at all since he and his son had gotten into their SUV and driven away from the Warehouse. “Can you please not call me that? What a horrible moniker. And please, introduce me.”

“Sutton, this is Helena, Helena, meet Bennett Sutton, previously known as the Count of Saint Germain.”

Helena raised an eyebrow at Myka, which promised a grilling later. “Courtesy title?”

“Original, actually. I moisturize.”

“Flirt later, explain first,” Myka ordered, picking a table in a quiet corner and sitting down. “You texted me.”

“Well, yes, about that. I may have miscalculated slightly,” Sutton answered with a chagrined expression.

“Is Nicholas alright?”

Sutton waved a hand, “The boy is fine. Rather a stereotypical teenager, I have been led to understand. I would really prefer he not find out about this.”

“What did you do?” Myka asked, a sinking feeling in her stomach. What idiocy did he start now? Nicholas really was the adult in the family.

“Well, I nicked something that turns out to be an artifact.”

“Did you bring it with you?”

Sutton turned to look at Helena and winked, “I’d be happy to let you search me.”

Helena snorted, “Does that line even work?”

“You’d be surprised how well my lines work. I’ll demonstrate for you any time.”

“Sutton,” Myka cut in.

“Right. Back to work.” He pulled a small box out of his pocket and slid it across the table. “It belonged to Marie; I saw it come up at auction, found out who bought it, and made their acquaintance. I had no idea it had been imbued with any sort of power until I wore it out one night and had the hardest time getting everyone to leave me alone. I like attention, but that was too much even for me. Couldn’t make it to the washroom without someone following me.”

“And then you couldn’t lift anything else,” Helena shrewdly stated as she leaned forward and watched Myka flip it open with one of the purple gloves. Inside nestled a diamond encrusted ring with the initials MA, it had been strung on a chain which looked much newer.

“Marie Antoinette’s ring, with a lock of her hair inside. Artie did wonder whether it had artifact properties when we saw it go up for auction. We didn’t have a chance to swap it out for a replica,” Myka murmured, then gently closed the box and slid it into a static bag.

“Yes, well, it does. I also need to return it to the man who bought it. I had no idea I’d be having to deal with him on a regular basis, and he’s already suspicious of me.” Sutton reached for the bag, only to stop when both Myka and Helena leveled matching glares at him.

“You can’t return this, no matter what mess you’ve gotten into. It’s going to the Warehouse.” Myka put the static bag into her pocket.

“You mentioned a replica?” Sutton said hopefully.

“Yeah, but you can’t be the one to return it if you’re going to avoid suspicion.”

“We could call…” Helena suggested.

“Artie wouldn’t like it. We could do it,” Myka protested.

“I thought you called them friends.”

“They are, but--”

“Asking Parker to return a diamond ring might put a strain on that relationship,” Helena agreed.

“Ladies,” Sutton interrupted. “Not that I object to watching the two of you flirting, but the man in question is a major donor to the university that Nicholas attends, and has ties to a mobster that was imprisoned a few years ago. You do not want him to find the Warehouse.”

Myka sighed. “Mobsters? Seriously, Sutton, what happened to going straight and taking care of your son?”

“I didn’t know about the mobster connection until _after_ I nicked it. And now I see him at all the university events.”

Myka sighed and looked at Helena, who raised her chin in agreement. Guess she’d be making those calls after all.

“Alright. We’re going to need you to come to the Warehouse and debrief the people who are going to return the replica of the ring. I’ll send you a message when I hear back from them about a time.”

“Thank you,” Sutton said, his voice sincere for the first time since they had walked in the door to this bar.

“Don’t make a habit of it; and make sure you show up when I tell you to.”

“Always, ma cherie.”

Helena bumped her shoulder against Myka’s as they passed through the doorway out to the parking lot. “You owe me dinner and an explanation.”

“Yeah. Just let me call the Warehouse and let them know what’s going on.”


	2. Dead Man Walking

“Do you think we should demand that they put us on retainer?” Hardison asked as he made the final turn toward Leena’s Bed and Breakfast.

Eliot grunted from the seat behind him, obviously in agreement.

“They mentioned mobsters on the phone. I was curious,” Parker admitted, poking through her requisite bag of chocolates for long trips.

“This is the second time they’ve called us in on short notice,” Hardison complained. “I had some really good musicians lined up to play at the brewpub tonight.”

“Amy will enjoy that. We may get to steal from mobsters. Much more fun.”

Hardison glanced over his shoulder at Eliot and shuddered slightly. “Just so long as there’s no water.”

Eliot reached forward and wrapped his hand over Hardison’s shoulder, thumb brushing against the side of the hacker’s neck. “No water.”

“Wonder what we get to steal…” Parker murmured as she popped the last piece of chocolate in her mouth. She was the first one out of the van and practically skipped toward the patio door.

Eliot rolled his eyes.

Hardison snorted, “What do you think the odds are that we escape again without an artifact coming home with us?”

“Slimmer every time.”

“We’d better…”

“Yeah.”

They caught up to Parker, just as Claudia pushed the door open for her. “Hey guys, welcome back. Everyone’s in the living room, Artie’s getting cookies if Pete hasn’t eaten them all already, and please don’t steal anything--there’s nothing valuable to be had.”

Hardison grinned. He liked the smart-ass hacker that worked for the Warehouse. If she ever decided to leave the crazy, he’d hire her for Leverage International without a second thought. “Claudia, good to see you; we getting paid this time?” Hardison asked as he held out a fist.

“Government budgets, as always. Also, not sure she’s going to like this ask all that well,” Claudia answered wryly, tilting her head toward Parker, where she was trying to reach past Pete for a cookie.

Eliot raised an eyebrow.

Claudia laughed, “You and H-- Helena really ought to have a competition. Come on, this one is Myka’s show.”

Hardison sat on the couch next to Parker, and could feel Eliot take up position against the wall behind them. Claudia sat on Parker’s other side, Steve behind her, also against the wall. He kept a close watch on his partner, and even though Steve was more comfortable with all of them, he still tried to position himself so he could keep an eye on Eliot. The boogeyman, Hardison thought, coughing to cover a laugh.

Myka was standing, Helena--he knew there was more to the woman than they were telling him, her background was too clean-- perched on a side table right next to her. Those two were close; the tension between them wasn’t quite the same as the tension between Myka and Pete, who had taken one of the arm chairs and had a plate of cookies. Artie had the other armchair. Abigail had taken one look at the room and left.

“I wanted to talk to you before one last person arrives,” Myka started. “The reason I called you was that someone who has ties to the Warehouse stole an artifact, but was not in possession of the replica in order to replace it.”

“To be fair, he also didn’t know that it was an artifact, or that we had a replica ready to swap it out with,” Helena added.

Myka glared. “True. Anyway, apparently the man he stole the artifact from has ties to the mob, so we can’t risk any of us being tied to the theft--or replacing the object. That’s where you would come in.”

“Wait. You want us to return something. Not steal it.” Parker frowned. “You want us to give something valuable back to a mobster.”

“That is the nature of the help we need, yes. The object was one of Marie Antoinette’s rings--” Artie fished a small jewelry box out of his pocket and tossed it across the room.

Parker snagged the box and flipped it open. “Diamonds, decent quality but nothing special. Value is more from historical context. Last seen at auction at Sotheby’s as part of a lot. But this is a fake.”

“The real one is already in the Warehouse. We need you to sneak that one back in.”

“In where?” Hardison demanded. “We don’t do mobsters without a lot more information.”

“That’s where our informant-” Myka started

“Thief,” Helena interrupted.

“Con artist,” Pete supplied simultaneously.

There were three snorts in concert from Claudia, Steve and Eliot.

“Sounds more like our kind of people than yours,” Hardison observed as Myka glared at her partners.

“We are aware. He has an… interesting past,” Myka told him with a smile and a quirk of her hands that basically said she didn’t want to get in to details.

“But don’t we all have varied and interesting pasts? Well, this is quite a party, hope you don’t mind, there was another rather pretty woman who let me in.”

Hardison felt Eliot practically vibrate off the wall, tense with the need to get between the interloper and his team but with no good way to do so without drawing too much attention. What was it about this rather unremarkable but pompous man with an accent and a smirk that was probably permanent?

“I know you’ve run into some interesting people, Myka, including myself, but why is the bodyman of international crime boss Damien Moreau in your living room?” the man asked, eyes never leaving Eliot.

This man had met Eliot when he’d worked for Moreau.

Shit.

“And how does a man go from shot dead to escaping out a window?” Eliot growled back.

“Fu--- What now?”

****

***

Chaos descended. Artie pulled off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. He doubted that the conversation would wear itself down, but...

“What do you mean he was dead?” Hardison demanded of Eliot.

“That must be why the ATF had him on the most wanted board,” Steve told Claudia. “Hit man for a crime boss.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s a boogeyman now, though,” she protested. “I wonder if he’s the one that shot Sutton?”

“I did not shoot Sutton. Moreau did,” Eliot corrected, “And yes, he was dead. I checked.”

“Also stripped me of all my valuables; insult to injury,” Sutton chimed in.

“You were thieving from an international crime boss,” Myka clarified.

“He was always surrounded by gorgeous and loaded women; I couldn’t resist.”

Helena snorted. “The women, the booze, or the jewels, I’d bet.”

“Sounds like you’ve met the man,” Pete agreed.

“And even though he was dead, he jumped out the window?” Hardison prodded Eliot.

“What is he, a vampire?” Parker asked.

“Vampires are for gothic novels. Besides, he doesn’t sparkle,” Steve chipped in, causing Claudia to choke on her cookie.

Sutton turned toward Steve. “Thank you. You know, that’s very close to what I said.”

“But he looks like one, see that forehead. Just like in those stupid movies for teenage girls,” Parker protested.

“Told you, all those comments about my forehead, just jealousy,” Pete muttered to Myka.

“A witch would probably be more likely,” Helena suggested.

Myka glared at her and jutted her chin out slightly, obviously wanting Helena to not fan the flames of speculation.

“Witch? Please, as if I would ever do any of that ridiculous chanting,” Sutton scoffed

“Alien, then?” Parker suggested.

“Nah, then his skin would be green,” Hardison said.

“Or he’d be little. Really, really little,” Pete added, holding his fingers a bare inch apart while squinting at the man in question, and drawing Myka’s glare.

Sutton was immediately offended. “There is _nothing_ little about me.”

“Besides not all aliens are green or little,” Eliot said, recapturing Hardison’s attention.

“We’re going to need to have a talk, man. What is it you _did_ between jobs?” the hacker warned as Parker lit up with the fact that no one had really disproved that particular theory.

Claudia finished her cookie before adding her two cents. “Drunk. Definitely a drunk.”

“In all my lifetimes. Alcohol has gotten surprisingly more varied, and I do rather enjoy the effects,” Sutton agreed.

Artie put his glasses back on and took a deep breath before bellowing. “ENOUGH. Children.”

The room went quiet, and even Sutton seemed to pay attention. Artie sighed, attention successfully drawn and discussions of aliens and vampires stopped. “Sit. Down.”

Everyone sat except for Eliot and Steve, who seemed to think the wall would collapse without their support. Even Sutton pulled a chair out from against the wall, and Myka perched on the arm of Pete’s overstuffed chair.

“Thank you.” Artie glared around the room. “Now, if you’re all done bickering, we have a job to do. Sutton, these are the people who will be returning the replica. If you could tell them where it needs to go--without editorializing--now would be the time.”

Sutton widened his eyes at Artie, as if impressed by the level of command. “What, no offer of something to drink first?”

“Sutton,” Myka warned.

“That’s still sexy, you know. Fine. The man I stole the ring from was Alex Frain, who is some sort of businessman and also a major donor to Columbia.”

“Frain was--” Hardison started after a glance at Eliot. Whatever cue the hacker caught from his partner was one that Artie had missed.

“Associated with Moreau, yes.”

“He wasn’t highly connected,” Eliot growled.

“Wasn’t at the time,” Sutton corrected. “He is now. Found himself a nice little niche running black market antiquities.”

“Must have taken pieces of what Keller was running,” Hardison muttered, pulling out his tablet.

“Regardless, he is someone I now have to see at all the University functions, and he knows I was admiring the ring. So he’s a bit suspicious of me.”

“Where did you lift it?” Parker asked.

“He had a function at his house and I was able to sneak away for a moment.”

“Looking for small, portable objects,” Helena scoffed.

“I like this one. Is she a permanent fixture these days?” Sutton asked Myka. “I’ll have to visit more often. Yes. I knew he has Marie’s ring, and wanted it for old time’s sake.”

Artie winced, noticing Parker’s fascinated stare and Hardison’s intense curiosity. Sutton was probably as hard or harder to explain than Helena. He wondered if Leverage Inc. had figured out who Helena was.

“You called yourself the Count of Saint Germain; there was a Count of Saint Germain in Marie Antoinette's court,” Eliot said flatly.

“Yes, original title, actually,” Sutton confirmed with a smile.

“See? Vampire!” Parker exclaimed.

And even Artie bellowing couldn’t bring the room back to the topic at hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaand here's the reason that I ended up writing this fic: Eliot and Sutton recognize each other and the "conversation" that ensues. The fic framework is only to hold these conversations and jokes; there is only a plot line if you squint. 
> 
> Thanks for reading :) Hope you got a laugh out of it. I'm curious to know which jokes you've caught!


	3. Bad Penny

“Explain to me why you’re here again?” Hardison asked, glancing at Myka, who was sitting next to him in the back of the van.

Myka raised a wry eyebrow, “You really wanted to be the one to handle him?”

“No. And he is here because…?”

“Because I’m the one who has been inside the house before, obviously,” Sutton drawled from behind them. “Do I get one of those fancy ear things, or are you expecting me to just sit here?”

Hardison glared over his shoulder at the man who claimed to have _met_ Marie Antoinette. “Preferably with your mouth shut unless we need your input.”

“Which is definitely a no,” Parker’s voice drifted into Hardison and Myka’s ears. “Unless he’s going to tell us how he became a vampire. For a wannabe mobster, this guy has terrible security.”

“Rent-a-cops; easily distracted,” Eliot confirmed. “I’ll stay nearby.”

“This house has six bedrooms; which one did the vampire lift it from?” Parker asked.

Myka’s eyebrow went up again, but she turned to Sutton without Hardison’s prompting. “Which bedroom did you take the ring from?”

“Was it a bedroom?” Sutton tilted his head. “I’m not quite sure I was sober enough to remember.”

“Ned--”

“Mean,” Sutton pouted. “Fine. I vaguely recall some rather enviable built in bookshelves and display cases.”

“That doesn’t describe a bedroom, man. What kinda crap information did you give us?”

“Well, really, what do you take me for, to trust a bunch of thieves?”

Hardison snorted. “Hypocrite. Parker, you catch that description?”

“Yeah, found it. How obvious should I make it?”

“Obvious,” Eliot said. “Not sneaky.”

They all heard Parker’s sigh over the comms.

“Make the drop and get back. Don’t take anything else,” Hardison ordered. “I want to get this done and the Count out of my van.”

“But I’ve been so well behaved.”

“You open your mouth and what comes out is a lie. How does Steve even stand being around this guy?” Hardison ended with a mutter to Myka.

“You know, he usually leaves the room pretty quickly,” Myka agreed. “Smart.”

“You wound me,” Sutton gasped. “Why are beautiful women always so cruel?”

“Parker. Now. Please!” Hardison growled in a good imitation of Eliot while pinching the bridge of his nose. “Otherwise I’m calling Quinn and I won’t stop whatever he decides to do.”

Eliot’s warm chuckle trickled from the comms and eased the tension in Hardison’s muscles. “Only if I get to play, too.”

“I’ll bring the pretzels,” Parker added. “Be there in five.”

****

***

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to come with me? I’ll let you bring the rope,” Sutton leered at Helena as she stood next to Myka on the porch of the Bed and Breakfast, waiting for the Count to get into his rental car.

“I think not,” Helena answered, wrinkling her nose at him. “Sounds tedious.”

“That’s one word for it.” Myka bumped her shoulder against Helena’s. “What was it you said about a glint of madness?”

“Competency is much more attractive. And he,” Helena tilted her chin toward Sutton, “is far from competent.”

“Cruel,” Sutton pouted. “I’ll let Nicholas know you send your regards.”

“I hope he’s doing well at school.”

Helena watched as Sutton _finally_ got into the car and drove away. “That man is exhausting.”

“You didn’t meet his brother. He was worse.”

“The mad alchemist Paracelsus; yes, you did mention him.” Helena studied. “He’s not coming back is he?”

“Well, you did.”

“Right,” Helena acknowledged. “What about the drunkard one?”

“I have no doubt he’ll turn up again. Can’t seem to stay out of trouble,” Myka said, staring down the road before turning to Helena. “But hopefully not for a long while.”

“Are we going to see off the competent thieves?”

“They left straight for the airport after dropping off Sutton. We don’t usually encourage them to stay too long; last time one of the paperweights disappeared, and the time before that it was one of Artie’s IRS ID cards.”

“Huh.” Helena stuffed her hands in her jacket pockets, looking mildly impressed. “Seems like Parker can’t help herself. What do you think has gone missing this time?”

“Guess we’ll find out,” Myka sighed, holding open the door and gesturing for Helena to return inside first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here ends what little plot there was... tune in for the last chapter to see what Parker picked up :)


	4. Count Coup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a final soft OT3 scene...

Hardison blew out the match he had used to light the pair of menorahs, and watched the flickering flames for a moment. They really were a mismatched pair--his battered old menorah sitting next to the ornate, jeweled historical masterpiece that Parker had given him. The sight of the two sitting next to each other in the window never failed to make him smile.

Eliot was cooking something that smelled of soy sauce, sesame oil, and ginger; it was making Hardison’s mouth water. When he went to douse the match in water and throw it out, Hardison tried to sneak a taste, only to get hip checked away by his partner.

“It’s not done yet,” Eliot grumbled at him, still stirring the mixture on the stove.

Hardison leaned against the counter carefully out of Eliot’s way. From this vantage, he could see both Eliot in the kitchen, and Parker in the living room decorating her _special_ Christmas tree.

It had been a quiet few weeks, and Hardison admitted only to himself that he was enjoying this slower rhythm. Turning this idea over in his mind idly, Hardison found his attention caught by a new addition to Parker’s tree.

“Eliot?”

“What?” the hitter grumbled, not turning.

“Eliot!”

“What!”

Hardison turned wide eyes to Eliot’s glare. “Were there any diamonds involved in any of the jobs we took this year that I didn’t know about?”

“No. No diamonds. You know that.” The glare was turning confused.

“Then why is there a new diamond on the tree?” Hardison demanded, immediately spotting the gaudy thing when he turned back to look.

The diamond was violet blue, and looked to be only slightly smaller than the Hope Diamond. It was fashioned into a simple setting and strung onto the tree as casually as the other priceless treasures.

“That’s not the Hope Diamond,” Eliot said, his tone hopeful.

“Nope,” Parker told them with a grin, bouncing over to place festive hats on their heads. “It’s the Violet Sunrise, according to my research. Belonged to Marie Antoinette and was buried with one of her court favorites.”

“And where did you get it?” Hardison asked, almost hesitating.

Parker wrinkled her nose at them. “He was a terrible thief and shouldn’t have been carrying a diamond like that with him anyway.”

“You picked Sutton’s pocket?”

“Of course!” Parker’s grin was bright and made Hardison not mind… so much. “Vampires are supposed to have super-senses or something… guess he isn’t one. You’re probably right about him being an alien.”

“Aliens don’t have to have super senses,” Eliot deadpanned.

“Right? No, no taking off the hats.” Parker glared at them briefly before heading back toward her tree and the remaining decorations.

Hardison slowly lowered his arm away from where he’d been about to grab Eliot’s hat off of his head in retaliation for the alien comment. “You know she believes you, right?” he demanded.

Eliot shrugged, looking smug and amused. Then he looked at the diamond for a moment. “Think we should call…?”

“Yeah. Always knew something would end up on the tree if we kept going there.” Hardison pulled out his phone and started scrolling through the contacts. “At least it isn’t _from_ the Warehouse, so we might get lucky.”

There was a snort. “As long as none of _us_ end up on the tree.”

Hardison nodded and then walked toward one of the bedrooms for a little privacy--better not to let Parker know they always checked on whatever she brought back. “Hey, Claud, got a minute? We finally figured out what Parker picked up from our last visit...”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it, or at least got a chuckle out of it.
> 
> For anyone curious about the two menorahs, it's a reference to a scene in [Tradition](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25494331), one of my Leverage OT3 5+1 studies.
> 
> Feel free to come visit me over on Tumblr at buriedbybooks (where I mostly post fan-art), start a conversation, or drop an ask or a request. Do you have an idea for an artifact? An interaction you’d like to see between the Leverage crew and the Warehouse 13 team?


End file.
